The Jagged Path to Creating a Meditation Practice...Here's My Story

I feel unfocused and scattered if I don’t give myself at least ten minutes to sit in a meditation practice first thing in the morning.

 I’ve learned what tools I need depending on how I feel upon rising. Sometimes I need to light a candle, other times I need to hold mala beads.

Whatever the tool and whatever particular practice I explore on my meditation cushion, I start my day feeling centered and purposeful.

It didn’t use to feel this way.

In fact, it took me a long and jagged path to get to where I am, but every step of the journey was worth it.

I first explored meditation sixteen years ago when I was several months into a fairly regular yoga asana practice (the yoga poses explored in a community yoga class). 

At that time, I was getting my doctorate in Oregon and went to one yoga class a week, sometimes two if I had the time. 

My teachers included seated meditation as part of the class, usually after the final resting pose called “savasana.” 

Meditation felt easy and refreshing in a yoga studio with others guided by the teacher.

It was a different story at home by myself.

I remember my first attempt:  I set up my purple yoga mat in my living room and sat cross-legged on it to meditate.  My cat thought my legs were the perfect nest for her.

I kept shooing her off so I could meditate, but soon realized that was futile. 

Here I am, sitting with my cat in my lap, trying to meditate. 

Trying is the operative word—my mind was racing through all the elements I had wrong. The lighting was wrong, I had no incense, maybe I should be playing instrumental music, maybe I should be chanting, do I need to sound my singing bowl? 

My head raced faster than my hamster on her wheel behind me (which was also a distraction).

I gave up.  It felt wrong.  I couldn’t do it alone, but I would enjoy it in class with others. Fine.

The following year I lived in Sydney and practiced yoga at a studio with a teacher who would become very important to me.  He included meditation in every class and taught the importance of spinal and joint alignment—when everything lined up, weight became weightless. 

He was correct.  I began to feel infinite space within me when I followed his cues. 

Meditation was still not a practice I did on my own, but I was thankful to have a deeper understanding of the practice from him.

Years later, I was living outside of Washington, DC.  I’d completed my Ph.D., was working as a public speaking consultant, and was stressed out by the high cost of living in the area. 

I revisited the idea of meditation as a home practice.

I created an altar of sorts in the guest bedroom closet with some crystals I had accumulated in Sydney, incense, and a singing bowl I acquired in Oregon. I sounded the bowl, settled my spine and joints into optimal alignment, and focused on my chakras, the seven energy centers that line the spine. 

Having an anchor for my thoughts helped a lot, but I still felt distracted by my thoughts—I needed to go to the grocery store, I need to avoid rush hour traffic, I need to organize my desk, I should be working on getting more clients….the list went on. 

I did my best to focus on my chakras and imagine bringing balance to them with each breath.

Meditation was still not a comfortable practice for me.

I had been practicing yoga asana for four or five years. I had developed the ability to focus inwardly in yoga practice.

Sitting still felt very difficult. 

Looking back, I was scared to sit with myself and feel the thoughts and emotions that came up.

Fast forward a few years, and I’m a stay-at-home mom to a gorgeous 4-year-old. 

I’m still living in the DC metro area, and my stress level is higher than ever because of the high cost of living.

I was also dealing with a depression that came from not working as I did before becoming a mom (NOTE:  don’t mistake me—I adored being a mom to my girl, but I grieved the life I had before having her at the same time as I celebrated her each day. It’s an impossible push-pull that parents of young ones feel.)

I was at the end of my rope. 

I literally felt like I was about to lose my mind.

Then my therapist told me about Tara Brach, a meditation teacher doing a day-long retreat at Catholic University in DC. 

I had to go! 

The thought of getting out of the house for a day, being with other grown-ups, and exploring meditation practice sounded like Heaven.

I’ll never forget what happened once I settled into my seat: Tara led us through the first guided meditation, which probably lasted 10 minutes, and I felt able to connect with stillness.

Perhaps it was the feeling of safety in numbers or the incredible guidance Tara gave, but I felt a sense of the calm inside of me that I hadn’t experienced in many years. 

As I opened my eyes after that first meditation, I felt God had pressed a “reset” button on my spirit and given me a fresh start. 

Tara led us through several more meditations that day, and each one cleansed my heart a little more. 

My fear about sitting with myself lessened, and I became confident I could bring this practice home. 

I wanted to feel this clear every day, so I had to.

I registered for an online course to learn meditation with Tara and her teaching partner, Jack Kornfield.

I devoted each morning to meditation with her expert guidance.  The course included a weekly check-in with a mentor, which was a wonderful way to learn if I was “doing it right.” (NOTE:  there is no such thing as doing it right or wrong—you practice kindness for yourself and keep going.)

By the end of the 10-week course, I had established a meditation practice. 

What started as a 5-to-10-minute guided practice became a 5-to-10-minute silent practice by myself.

Over the years, my meditation practice became an entryway into freewriting practice, which I learned in a course led by Natalie Goldberg.

Freewriting practice includes meditation and had become a healthy outlet for exploring the thoughts, emotions, and stories swirling inside of me. 

This grew into a morning poetry-writing practice, which offered a more creative way to get specific with my language to describe my experiences.

Today and every day, I sit and meditate.

Sometimes I will write in my journal afterward, but many days I do not. 

Over the years, I have become less anxious, more focused, kinder, less judgmental (of myself and others), and less reactive to life’s circumstances.

I know this is because meditation creates grey matter in the brain for new neural pathways to take hold. 

New pathways mean new behaviors, a conscious choice I had made to live a happier life.

The path to becoming a meditator had many turns and dips. 

It was not easy, but it’s not supposed to be easy.

Personal discipline is meant to have friction and agitate the mind. In yoga, it’s called tapas (discipline causing positive change).

Change is hard no matter how you slice it.

Meditation is different from the daily norm of having a mind that races; therefore, your old way of being will do whatever it takes to get you out of the new habit. 

I tell you from my heart: Stick with it—Holdfast to your intention and your WHY.  Get playful with it. Be kind to yourself as you explore.

You will get there.